


A Dubious Reward

by SilverRaven33



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Castiel Can Hear Longing (Supernatural), Castiel Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Castiel learning consent, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time Having Sex, Consent Discussion, Dean Winchester Wears Castiel's Trenchcoat, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Dean Winchester's First Time With a Man, Destiel - Freeform, Dom/sub Undertones, First Kiss, M/M, Molestation, Non-Consensual Touching, POV Dean Winchester, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rape/Non-con Elements, This was supposed to be a one shot too, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Well duh, or tries to anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:01:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverRaven33/pseuds/SilverRaven33
Summary: Castiel's idea of a reward for defeating the archangels is definitely not what Dean had in mind. Ever. Not only is he straight, Cas didn't ask.Please read the archive warning and tags!!! Dean does start enjoying what's happening, it's coming from a place of love on Castiel's part, and it ends rather soft and sweet, but there is never true consent asked for or given.As can be deduced, this implies an alternate version of the events of Season 5 heading into 6.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 208





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably get buried quickly in the end-of-show codas and fix-it fics but here, in the middle of all that, have some random throwback porn! lol

Castiel’s grip was heavy on Dean’s shoulder as the angel marched the hunter into that damn green room, with its walls as white as ever, the garish gold accents as overdone as ever. This wasn’t the first time Dean had been forced into this room of course, but he’d thought he was done with it. Zachariah was dead, killed by Dean’s own hand, the apocalypse had been averted, with no archangels having had to possess anybody. There was no further need for the celestial dicks to try to make Dean do or not do anything. He thought. So why was Castiel bringing him here?

“You’ve done well,” the trench coated angel told him, his voice low and almost...angry? Even more disconcerting was the way the wall sealed behind them as they walked into the room. Dean was trapped, as he usually was in here, there was no denying that. What the fuck. He’d thought they could trust Cas; he’d certainly helped them immeasurably in defeating the angel’s own brothers. Had that been a trick of some sort, did Cas have an ulterior motive of his own after all? 

It was so hard to read the guy. One minute he’d be all righteous and devout, then the next almost gentle in his confusion over some human matter. And through it all, he seemed fascinated with Dean, too much so if one asked Dean; the stares that never stopped, the standing too close, the always there when he least expected it. Still, Cas had raised him from Hell, and had done enough to convince Dean that he wasn’t like the other angels. So Dean trusted him when he’d put that hand on his shoulder and told him to come with him. Now he wasn’t so sure. 

“So why are we here?” Dean asked, forcing the tremor not to rise in his voice. He was tired from the fight with the archangels and he wasn’t sure how much strength he had left to bring down another celestial being, even a lesser one, if he had to. Sam wasn’t able to get in here, wherever here was, and it had been Cas that had saved him from destruction in this room once before. If he was now turning on him...Dean was trying hard to not admit to himself that he was scared, but he was. 

“Take off your clothes,” Cas said brusquely, in lieu of an answer to Dean’s question. 

_“What?”_ Dean’s shock made the word almost a squeak. The angel’s hand had dropped from his shoulder, but now it was back, Cas behind him, walking him again towards the only furniture in the room, which was of course that marble table. 

Thoughts of ending up as some sort of ritual sacrifice after all jolted through Dean’s brain and he began to twist around to face Cas. Maybe if he was able to look him in the eye he could figure out a motive, or if he was possessed suddenly or something. But he was barely able to catch a glimpse of that unsettling blue before he was turned around forcibly again towards the table, both shoulders in a vise grip now and the warmth of Cas’s body too close behind him. 

Dude was almost pressed up against him. Dean could piston his elbow back and hope it connected, but he knew the angel would be able to overpower him in the next moment. The hunter’s mind raced with ways to get out of this, survival instincts not quite able to take over since he didn’t seem to be in a life or death situation. Yet. 

“Dean, I told you to take off your clothes.” Cas’s voice was still stony but there seemed to be a breathless quality to it now. Or maybe that was just because Dean could feel the warm rush of air they caused on his ear with Cas being so damn close. The sensation caused a twinge deep in his belly. Rabid fear, no doubt. 

“Yeah, sorry, that’s not a request I follow when it comes from a guy. No offense.” Dean even managed a small smirk. If force wouldn’t do him much good, maybe he could use his wits. Wouldn’t be the first time they’d save him, or at least give him an advantage. 

He’d never heard an angel _growl_ before. But he certainly did now, and the sound, crawling its way out of Cas’s throat directly into his ear, went right to his knees. He’d had another smart ass comment to make, something about Cas not being a stacked blonde, but the words fled his mouth, along with most of its moisture. There was suddenly a strong hand on his sternum, and he knew Cas could squeeze the breath from him in a heartbeat. 

The angel was not crushing him, though he was yanking and tearing, his hands everywhere at once, and Dean only realized what was going on when it was almost done. The room air was cold on his bare skin for a moment, and then it seemed to heat up, and he wasn’t sure if that was from the shame of being unexpectedly naked or if Cas was doing something to heat the air. 

The angel was still behind him, still keeping Dean facing the table, now with a hand splayed between the hunter’s shoulder blades. Dean’s pants and boxers were pooled at his feet and both of his shirts were well gone. He gritted his teeth, furious at himself for ending up in this position, and his muscles tensed beyond their limit to feel the angel’s gaze all over his nude body. 

“Dude, what the fuck?!” he got out, his heart hammering. He felt Castiel’s sigh, warm on the back of his neck, and he wasn’t sure if it relaxed his muscles an iota or made him tense up more. 

“Dean, you are so beautiful,” the angel said almost reverently, all traces of a growl gone, and Dean flushed in spite of himself. That voice was kind of...soothing. Not to mention no one had ever spoken those words to him before. And yeah, it was gay as fuck, but there was something about those words in Cas’s voice that made Dean feel...special. Then the angel’s hands began wandering and Dean found his indignation again. 

“Seriously, Cas, what the fuck?” he tried asking once more. One hand was smoothing down his spine while the other wandered over a pec, then slid lower. Dean’s heartbeat was fluttering in his stomach and he wished he could stop it long enough to think straight. Because he was, undisputably, straight. There was no way he should be enjoying these touches, these caresses, of the calloused hands of this dude that he’d barely begun to consider a friend. 

Cas pressed him forward, making him bend at the waist so that Dean had to bring his hands up to the table’s surface to catch himself, the marble cold and unforgiving. There were no other sounds in the room than the back and forth of their harsh breathing and the slide of angel hands on human skin. And then as Cas explored further, a moan came from his throat. 

Dean’s back stiffened again at this, and at the way Cas was grabbing one of his ass cheeks and meanwhile his fingertips found the edge of Dean’s pubic hair. This had gone beyond far enough - whatever sorcery Cas had used on him thus far to find his touches tender rather than invasive was done. 

“Cas, stop it,” Dean commanded, his voice strong as he leaned up to get his weight shifted back to his feet. But Cas was stronger and a hand pressed into his back, keeping him bent forward slightly while the other hand continued to knead his ass. To top it all off, he could feel the edge of a trench coat brush against his legs every so often. It was insult to injury; he was being molested, there was no other word for it. And now Castiel’s low voice came again, huskier than Dean had ever heard it:

“Don’t tell me you don’t want this. I may not understand much of human subtleties, I will admit that. But I’ve been around long enough to know desire, and want, and lust.” Cas leaned into Dean, and between the way his voice deepened on the last word and the bulge Dean felt being pressed into his leg, the hunter’s heart turned right over. What exactly were Cas’s intentions? 

“I didn’t think you were going to survive that battle,” the angel continued, his tone admiring now. “You didn’t think you were going to survive that battle. And still you entered into it, so true to your own ideals and so utterly unwilling to back down.” So stubbornness was a turn on for the guy, go figure. But that didn’t mean…

Dean jumped as Cas’s fingers started prying into his ass crack, going where no one had gone before. In one swift motion, the human found his pants cut in half so that Castiel could kick his legs further open. No. There was no way this was really happening. 

“Cas -” Dean tried again, attempting to squirm away from the fingers spreading his ass cheeks but with nowhere to go, pressed as he was up against the hard table. 

“You shouldn’t want to fight this, Dean. This is your reward for being so strong. Angels aren’t...supposed to want humans like I want you.” The need in Cas’s voice was unmistakable now. His thumb found the center of Dean’s hole and pressed. 

“Cas! You can’t do this! This is rape!” Dean cried out. “Please,” he added helplessly as he started to tremble. 

He never in a million years thought he would find himself in this situation. The minutes seemed to be dragging on, Cas’s thumb frozen in place at his entrance, the angel’s breath hot on his shoulder blade, as if he wanted to make this last as long as possible. Or maybe he was thinking. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, willing Cas to get on with whatever he was going to do to him so it could just be over with. 

Dean wasn’t expecting the warm, dry lips being pressed to the skin of his back, or the next, more bold, open mouth kiss to the spot where his shoulder became his throat. Cas shifted so that it became his index finger at Dean’s hole, still just resting on the outside, while his other hand snuck around Dean’s front again. 

The hunter’s closed eyes filled with tears of shame and confusion as Cas found his hardening cock at the edge of the table and gripped it almost tentatively. Dean let out a gasp at the touch and the rush of need that came with it. His head snapped back as if it could help his mind escape what was happening but Cas’s breath was still warm on his throat. That merciless finger began circling and Dean whimpered, his cock hardening even more in Cas’s grip. 

“Stop lying to yourself,” Cas’s gravelly but sweet voice murmured into his ear. “I see the way you look at me. I’m a celestial being, I can feel the desire coming off of you in waves whenever I’m around you. It took me awhile to understand what it was, but now that I have...I _need_ you Dean.” It was now the angel that sounded tortured, and that finger was still circling, teasing or threatening, Dean wasn’t sure which anymore.

Thank fuck Cas must have done enough research to not be completely clueless. His hands left their respective spots, and Dean heard some rustling and a click. Then the finger that he definitely hadn’t missed, nope, no way, in the short time it had been away was back, and it was slick, and it was sliding along his hole, and he was bending further over the table in spite of himself. 

Dean’s eyes stayed resolutely shut but he began to imagine the picture that must be behind him: Castiel, fully dressed complete with trench coat, standing between Dean’s shamelessly spread legs, those impossibly blue eyes carefully watching his finger as it explored his virgin hole. The hunter felt the flush spread over his body at the mere idea of the visual. 

He had a thought to take a glance over his shoulder but there was no way he had the balls for that. If he kept his eyes glued shut that made this less real somehow. Or was it more real, as he could practically feel Cas’s concentration while the angel defiled him? 

That slick finger found its way inside of him, and Dean wanted to hate it. This was wrong, he hadn’t asked for this, he hadn’t told Cas this was okay, he’d never wanted anyone to touch him there. He didn’t want to want more, he wished he wasn’t desperate for Cas to wrap a hand around his dick again, he certainly didn’t give permission for the needy moan to leak out of him. 

“Yes, Dean,” Cas sounded high on lust, and his finger began working back and forth in a way that had Dean’s heart slamming into his ribs. Sweat had broken out all over his body, this deceitful body that wasn’t fighting this like it should be. 

Cas was not being overly rough, but he also wasn’t being exactly gentle as his finger drove into Dean’s hole again and again. Fuck, why did this feel good? Another set of kisses was being bestowed on Dean’s shoulder blades, and the hunter began to wonder what those lips would feel like on his own. 

It wasn’t until Cas leaned back again that Dean realized he’d eased another finger into him and the stretch, which should have been painful or at least unpleasant, was anything but. Dean’s fingernails scrambled at the marble table top, instinctively trying to find a purchase that wasn’t to be had, still not okay with how this was going down but unable to deny the jolts of pleasure that were shooting up his spine when Cas twisted his fingers. Just. Like. That. 

Maybe this was just something they both needed to get out of their systems, Dean tried to rationalize in between jolts. The adrenaline rush of a good fight did do things to one’s blood, and he guessed he’d been an idiot to ignore the tension that had been in the air between him and Cas since day one. Yeah, Cas stared, but Dean did too, he could admit that to himself, even if he didn’t fully know why. 

Another groan escaped him as a fresh drizzle of lube hit his opened hole and another finger slid in with it. Dean barely noticed he was moving his hips, either back into Cas’s fingers for more stimulation or forward to find something to rub his now almost painfully hard dick on, he wasn’t sure. He would give anything for a hand around his cock right now, but he was too busy holding himself up on the table and he’d be damned if he’d be able to ask Cas for that. He kind of liked how Cas’s fingers were digging into the meat of his ass cheek anyway, holding it in such a way so that it was giving his other hand room to work. Though he’d also be damned if he ever said such a thing out loud. 

No one ever had to know. He’d swear Cas to secrecy or death once this was over, and they could go on with their lives. The memory of how fucking amazing having most of Cas’s fingers buried in his ass felt while his dick leaked precome onto the floor of this cursed room would fade. Dean pushed back and tried not to release another whimper as the fingers withdrew. 

Then through his and Cas’s panting, Dean heard the sound of a belt being undone and a zipper lowered. He made his eyes crack open, his pupils assaulted by the light in the room. He knew, logically, that this was not the time to look back, that if he had been going to fight it would have had to happen before he’d been reduced to a wet hole wanting to be filled again and a cock begging to come. 

But he did anyway, peering over his shoulder the best he could, his gaze catching the trench coat of course, the scuffed loafers, the pants now shoved down to Cas’s knees. Dean managed to skip over the motion of the angel’s hand slicking himself up on his way up to Cas’s face. 

Not surprisingly, Cas was staring right back at him, his eyes wider than Dean had ever seen them, and overflowing with emotion. Dean trembled again when a tender hand smoothed across his lower back in circles. He brought his head back to center and lowered himself to his elbows for no reason he could have named. 

Dean was terrified in the best of ways as Cas drew closer again, and he could feel the heat of the angel’s dick before it even touched him. He shouldn’t want this, there was no way this wasn’t going to hurt, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself or Cas for this. 

“Relax, Dean, I want to make this good for you,” that gravelly voice floated towards him even as there was a nearly unbearable pressure at his opening. Dean closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying not to ball his hands into fists. Relax. Right. 

A soothing warmth seeped into his skin just above his tailbone, where Cas’s hand was resting firmly, and the angel began to slide inside. So full, so wide, so hard, so much, that Dean cried out with the pleasure pain of it. 

Cas was moaning himself, shoving in deeper and deeper until Dean was completely impaled. Fuck, it hurt. But it also somehow didn’t, as if being filled like this was right and good and perfect and if Dean had been capable of rational thought he would have slapped himself for these feelings. So luckily he wasn’t, he was just a ball of lust and need with an angel buried inside him. 

Then as Cas began to move his hips, his moans became sentences, a litany of praise and devotion. Dean wanted him to shut up even as he drank in every word through the intensity of the sensation of being fucked for the first time. 

“You’re mine, Dean, mine. I don’t care what they say, I’m keeping you. You are the most beautiful human that’s ever been created. So perfect. You’re exquisite.” Some pillow talk, er, well, table talk. Huh. Dean’s vocabulary, for the most part, had been limited to mostly grunts as Cas’s rhythm steadily sped up, igniting Dean a little more with every thrust. 

“Cas, oh fuck, Cas,” he was somehow able to babble, then forced out, “Please, Cas, please touch me. _I need to fucking come.”_ If you weren’t able to beg when your ass was stuffed full of cock, when could you? 

To Dean’s utter relief, Cas’s hand slid around his hip and the base of his seriously suffering dick. His movements weren’t smooth and his grip was a bit too tight but Dean was so desperate for release none of it mattered. The combination of being pounded into and any contact on his weeping cock was plenty. 

Dean bucked and convulsed under Cas as the strongest orgasm of his life rode through every inch of his body mercilessly. He came so hard and so suddenly it almost hurt, coating the edge of the table and one of his boots with jizz and leaving a small pool of it on the floor. 

Meanwhile it felt like Cas was growing impossibly bigger inside of him and he was certainly slamming into Dean harder than ever. With a low, drawn out cry of the hunter’s name, Castiel came, flooding Dean’s insides, a sensation that had Dean wishing it would never stop. Dean was wrecked, used, and it was all this damn angel’s fault. 

They stayed very still for a long time, catching their breath, with Dean nearly laying on the table, Cas holding himself up over the human, and the friggin trench coat brushing Dean’s bare sides. Too soon, Cas’s softening cock slid out of Dean, and the hunter winced at the loss of the warmth of it as well as the wet feeling of come trickling out of his hole. 

Dean wasn’t sure his legs would hold him, so he pressed into Cas as he stood up as straight as he could, then twisted around to face the angel, whose arms were still boxing him in close to the table. He did his best to ignore how well their bodies fit together from this angle as well. 

“You bastard,” he shot, but the insult lost some of its heat due to the still breathless quality of Dean’s voice. The blue eyes that he was glaring into were dark with sated lust and examining him as if he were a foreign galaxy. It seemed the angel had no comeback, regardless of how many words he’d had not that long ago. 

The attempted defiance drained out of Dean in a rush. How could you yell at someone who was just _looking_ at you like that? Like you were the center of their world and they might crumble if you went away. Dean grabbed for the lapels of the trench coat before his knees gave out. 

“You know,” he said before his breath ran out on him again, “You’re supposed to kiss someone before you fuck the ever loving shit out of them.” Dean’s heartbeat was in his throat. He wanted to run from the room, even though he still couldn’t, and at the same time, he never wanted to let go of Castiel. 

“Oh,” was Cas’s reply. He smiled, a soft tender thing that lit up his whole face and Dean knew at that second, naked and clinging to an angel’s coat, that he was well and truly screwed. Cas kissed him then, slow and soft and deep and needy and so perfectly attentive that Dean almost forgot his own name. 

The lining of the trench coat was surprisingly comfortable as Cas slipped it on him a bit later when Dean reminded him that he’d ruined his clothes. Cas just nodded in agreement when Dean said he owed him an outfit, his too serious gaze at the human having taken on a new tone.

Dean’s mind flashed to the phrases _you’re mine_ and _I’m keeping you,_ and with this possessive gleam in the angel’s baby blues, as well as this new brand of soreness deep inside him, it was hard not to feel like he’d been claimed in every possible way. Dean allowed his head to droop onto Cas’s shoulder before Cas teleported them away. He’d unpack all that later; he was just so drained right now. 

“Motel?” he asked hopefully. He needed a shower and a bed, something fierce. 

“As you wish,” Cas replied, tightening the arm around Dean that was helping to hold the hunter up. 

“And Cas?” 

“Yes Dean.”

“Don’t ever bring me to this damn room again,” Dean told him levelly, not so depleted as to have lost all of his anger. “Beds are way more comfortable.” 

“As you wish,” Castiel said again, and it almost sounded like there was a smile in his voice. “Don’t worry, Dean. I’m going to take good care of you. Forever.”


	2. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after and where Dean goes from here.   
> Tension and reluctant longing and trying to get Cas to understand consent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't expecting to continue this story but the characters wanted to keep it going.   
> Only heavy feels in this chapter, but there will be more smut to come (no pun intended lol).

Dean really didn’t have the energy for a shower but between the grime from the fight and then...that...there was no way he was passing out like this. He turned the water to a hotter temperature than he usually did, wanting, needing, to scrub off the unexpected touches and another dude’s semen. He was aware of a strange sense of loss, though, especially as he thoroughly soaped up his nether regions and his most private area which was not as private as it had been. 

His hole was tender, of course, and as he washed himself, he was aware that it wasn’t really a bad kind of sore. He let his mind remember that orgasm, his muscles blissfully relaxing under the onslaught of hot water and the memory. He hadn’t known his body could feel things like that. Once he’d washed Cas off of him, which he thought would have made him feel better than it seemed to be, he stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist. 

Now he had to go back out there and face Cas again, cause he knew better than to think the angel would have just nicely left. He’d be damned if he was going to let the guy intimidate him, so he opened the bathroom door and walked out in a cloud of steam. And into a folded pile of new clothes being handed to him. 

“As pleasing as I find your nude form, I know you would feel more comfortable with these,” Cas said as he deposited the underwear, track pants, and tee shirt into Dean’s hands. The hunter withdrew back into the bathroom to dress, not replying to the angel and working on denying the illogical feeling of security surrounding him. 

The clothes fit well. Cas did know his body far more intimately than it may have previously occurred to Dean. Having rebuilt him and all. He must, to be able to have made him feel...Dean shook his head and blamed these thoughts on his tired mind. He’d reached the end of his endurance and couldn’t even quite care that Castiel would assuredly be watching him sleep, alert and attentive while Dean was at his most vulnerable. 

As he crawled into bed, however, he did have one question.

“Sam?” he asked, keeping his eyes open long enough for the answer. Cas nodded.

“Safe,” the angel confirmed. “And close. In this same motel, several doors down. He knows you’re with me, and I assured him that you’re safe as well.” Attempting to ponder on relative terms like ‘trust’ and ‘safe’ and people’s different definitions of words, Dean fell into sleep head first.

He came to slowly, hours later, far past his usual four, to, what else, Cas staring at him from the chair next to the bed. Dean took stock as he woke, aware of but trying to ignore the warm silent greeting in those blue eyes for the moment. He’d definitely slept better than he ever did, his body felt rested and he could tell he hadn’t moved all night. He began to sit up, looking anywhere but at the angel absolutely fixated on him. 

“Good morning Dean.” That deep voice slid down Dean’s spine, bringing with it all the memories of what its owner had done to him the night before with that voice in his ear and how Dean had given in. He still wasn’t ready to unpack this and he didn’t bother to answer Cas.

A large Styrofoam cup was being pressed into his hand, and where Cas’s thumb brushed his, he swore it lingered for half a second. That thumb that lingered in a very different spot too recently. Or was it the other thumb? Dean had to stop thinking about it, bury it with everything else that had ever caused him to feel anything in the last thirty-one years.

The hunter clutched onto the coffee and took a grateful sip of something so familiar. And finally brought himself to look at his tormentor and caretaker in one in the face, though it may have been the last thing he wanted to do. He wasn't sure if the absolutely sappy, disgustingly besotted way the angel was staring at him made him feel better or worse. This must be how rare specimens in a zoo feel when people come to gape at them. He’d never been looked at like this. 

A long time ago, there’d been a woman named Cassie (and if the similarity in names wasn’t just one of life’s little jokes). She was the closest thing that Dean would guess he’d had to a real girlfriend - she’d had a way of studying him sometimes like Dean was the center of her world. 

And Castiel now looked at him like that. All the time. Like Dean was the most fascinating creature he’d ever seen, like Dean hung the damn moon. The hunter took a deep gulp of coffee, more for something to attempt to break the stillness than anything else.

He’d kissed him. After everything, Dean had wanted him to kiss him. And it had been the best kiss of his life. He would never be able to forget that. And fuck if he didn’t want to not forget. 

“Would you like to be alone with your thoughts?” The angel’s voice had no right to sound like velvet. Dean had had to look away, to stare down at the edge of the hideously patterned comforter, but now he glanced back over, only able to get as far as Cas’s lap. The memory of those navy dress slacks bunched around those knees made the skin on the back of his neck break out in a warm flush. He reached up to rub it to get rid of the prickle. 

“That’s uh, oddly thoughtful of you there, Cas,” Dean said without looking up, knowing the angel wouldn’t catch the sarcasm. 

“I’m trying to work on that. For you,” came the answer. Sure. Great timing on that one. Another sip of coffee helped ground Dean. His stomach rumbled in response, requesting something more solid. Cas sprung to his feet.

“I will go procure you some food.” 

“Cas - stop.” Dean held up a hand. This was too much. Apparently he was honoring his vow to take care of Dean quite literally but this had gone far enough. Dean lifted himself out of bed, feeling more in control for the action of standing up. 

“I can get my own breakfast. And then I’m going to meet up with Sam.” He stalked around the room, making sure to grab his wallet and phone, while Cas watched him. 

“And you know, apocalypse averted, right?” Dean said as he headed towards the door. “We did it. Go team.” He was talking much too fast. “So it looks like you can go back to Heaven and get back to whatever it is you do up there.” Hand was on the doorknob, he was almost gone…

“Dean.” 

The hunter closed his eyes at the way that _goddamn_ **_voice_** saying his name could stop him in his tracks. Especially not when it was somehow pleading even just on the short syllable. He was going to regret turning around, he knew he was going to regret turning around. Dean turned around. 

Cas stood there in the same spot by the chair, hands in his coat pockets.

“I won’t make you stay here. I don’t wish to make you do anything you don’t wish to do. But please do not banish me from your life.” Dean was at a loss for words for a moment at this, but then he found them in a hurry. 

“Anything I don’t wish to do?” he started, tone mocking. “I didn’t wish for what happened yesterday! Would have been nice if you’d decided to start being so considerate a little sooner!” 

Cas had the grace, or the sense, to look contrite.

“I - am aware that I overstepped some boundaries,” he said quietly but openly. 

“Overstepped…?” Dean flustered. “Cas, you - ” he didn’t quite want to say the word but what else was it? Just because he’d gotten off too, just because Cas had basically told him he loved him while he plowed into him, just because a part of Dean didn’t totally hate that it had happened, that didn’t make it okay. Cas’s eyes softened in sadness as he watched the human. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never meant to hurt you, Dean.” If there was one thing the angel was good at, other than a few surprising things Dean had learned about in the past twenty four hours, it was being sincere. 

“Cas, I…” It was hard to form the right words when the angel’s lips were open slightly and downturned and Dean couldn’t help but imagine kissing a smile back onto them. But this was also why he needed to get away from him. 

“I need a couple days, man,” he got out. “At least. I just need some space - please.” Cas’s gaze drooped. 

“How am I going to take care of you then?” He sounded as if his life hinged on the answer. 

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” Dean said with almost a laugh, but then changed tactics when Cas’s frown deepened even more. “I’ve got Sam, it’s not like he’ll let anything happen to me.” Then in a rare burst of retrospection, Dean added, “And sometimes this is how you can best take care of someone, by giving them what they need.” 

Cas gave a slow nod like he understood, though Dean wasn’t sure he did, and the angel was gone in the next breath, disappearing as suddenly as always. Dean rather wished the parting image he had of him wasn’t with the sad and lost look on his face but he shook his head; not like it should matter. It was high time to get back to his brother and celebrate their win. 

  
  


A tidy little salt and burn was just the thing to get back to normal, and Dean embraced the case with a zest that bemused Sam. After dealing with seals to the gates of Hell and dickhead angels it was good to get back to the basics. However it wasn’t quite distracting enough to forget, or at least that’s what Dean blamed when even as he dug up the grave he could still feel the way Castiel’s hands had moved against his back. 

Or why he promptly grabbed Sam and left the bar before the pretty brunette he’d hit it off with could return from the restroom. She’d given Dean that hooded look before she’d excused herself, and his dick perked right up, to his relief after the dream he’d had the night before, of sharp hip bones and strong arms and a very different, devoted gaze. But he still ran out on the girl, telling Sam he was suddenly tired and not that it felt like he had almost cheated on someone. 

He wasn’t supposed to care where the angel was or what he was doing, he had to remind himself. He wasn’t really supposed to be thinking of him at all. Maybe Cas would never come back, Dean mused as he drove to the next town. That would probably be for the best. Hell, he’d probably already gotten wrapped back up in his angelic duties and perhaps they wouldn’t ever see him again. Dean resolutely hoped for that with the miles rolling on, and if this caused a chasm to open in his heart, he pushed the gas pedal down further. 

Dean only slept two hours that night before he was awake and standing next to the motel window, staring out at the drizzle and dark. He couldn’t even remember why they’d come to this particular town. Was it vamp signs or a haunted museum? He didn’t know anymore, not with this emptiness inside and the dreams that just wouldn’t stop. This one had been too vivid and he’d woken up almost expecting the lips on his to be real this time. They weren’t, and it wasn’t like he wanted that anyway, so he’d gotten up to pace, figuring sleep wasn’t going to be happening. 

“How long do you wish to torture yourself this way?” 

The deep whisper and the all-at-onceness of Castiel standing next to him made Dean jump like he’d been electrocuted. His every hair was standing up as if he had been as well. He took in the sight of the angel before him, then cast a quick glance over his shoulder at his little brother, to make sure he was still asleep. The snoring told him Sam was thus far none the wiser. 

His pulse going wild, Dean let himself really look at Cas, the way his face was shadowed in the sickly glow of the motel sign through the flimsy curtains. Even like this, he was...Dean still couldn’t acknowledge it. But he did turn towards him as if pulled by an invisible rope. He seriously was not going to die if he never got another kiss from the angel, he knew that, damn it. And yet. 

Every inch of his skin reacted when Cas’s fingers slid along his jaw, as gentle as he guessed the guy knew how to be. His eyes closed and he leaned into the touch before he could stop himself. He’d been going to ask why Cas was here, he hadn’t called him, hadn’t given him permission to come back yet. 

He didn’t need to ask, he realized; whatever had been simmering between them was now bared, a magnetic force that would not rest until it was sated. Castiel had torn those walls right down and Dean had never felt a pull of desire like this, so strong he almost couldn’t think. But there was something that needed to be settled, before Dean completely lost himself. 

“Cas?” he whispered needlessly, as if he didn’t have the guy’s undivided attention like always. Maybe he just liked saying the name, or what he knew would come after it.

“Yes Dean.” Yes, that was it. His name in that voice was the sweetest aphrodisiac. Focus, he had to focus. 

“Before anything else...happens here...I need you to do me a favor.” Knowing the angel would agree to pretty much anything he asked, he didn’t bother pausing. “I need you to check in with me before you just do stuff. Like - like bending me over a table and just taking me.” 

He really wished that didn’t sound as hot as it did, and he winced that he was saying these words, no matter how quietly, in the same room as his brother. The snoring hadn’t shifted, luckily. 

“Of course,” the answer came. The angel’s thumb lightly stroked across Dean’s cheek, the soft scraping over the dusting of his two days’ growth somehow soothing. 

“I am, as you know, less than skilled in the art of seduction,” Cas added.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Dean said before he could help it. “But really you - you just gotta learn a little consent.” Because if he didn’t, Dean wouldn’t be able to live with himself when he surrendered to him again. And it certainly was ‘when’, not if, as much as that idea freaked him the fuck out. As it was, it was all he could do to not grab the guy and pull him closer. 

“Like this,” Dean explained, still whispering of course. “Cas, can I hug you? Please?” Even in the dim light, the angel’s smile was dazzling as his arms slid around the hunter and the only thought that Dean’s mind supplied was  _ home _ once he was locked in the embrace, holding back just as tightly. 

Okay this was still a little forward but Dean would be lying if he said he didn’t like how Cas couldn’t seem to hold back from utterly and unabashedly wanting him. He was just beginning to hope that Cas would whisk them away to another room somewhere, even as a trickle of uncertainty at what that would lead to worked its way through him when Cas pulled back.

“You must remember, I am more tuned into what you need and want than you realize,” the angel said. Dean was going to reply with something along the lines of “at least humor me” but the way Cas was looking at him again made him temporarily speechless. He was going to finally get another kiss, and really anything could wait till after that. Cas leaned forward, and Dean felt the tenderest press of lips…to his forehead. 

“Sleep well, Dean,” Castiel whispered, his warm breath dancing across Dean’s face. The hunter found himself back in bed, alone, Sam’s snoring still a background chorus. How the hell was he supposed to sleep after that, his body and what was left of his soul yearning and desperate? He closed his eyes anyway, and the grace that Cas must have put into that kiss took care of the rest. Dean slept like a baby for the rest of the night. 


	3. I Want You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally finishing giving in and Cas at least trying to practice consent.

“DEAN!!!”

Dean wasn’t necessarily scared of death. What he hated was knowing his brother, calling his name and too far away to do anything, would have to live with this memory of him getting ripped apart. Again. 

The anguish in Sam’s voice made Dean’s heart freeze, a steely contrast to the deep pounding from the hard run that had brought him across the field and up against the side of this barn. He fired a couple of last shots towards where he thought the hellhounds were, but how did you fight something you couldn’t see?

One of the bullets must have hit, judging by the injured squeal that went up, but unlike last time, this was a whole pack that was after them, and there were just too many. Dean’s last thought was that he hoped Sam had time to get away before they went after him, and he braced himself for the rending and tearing, having a reason to figure it would at least be quick with this many of them. 

A sudden light blinded him, coming out of nowhere into the pitch blackness of the moonless night. At the same time, a chorus of pained howling rose in a sharp pitch and Dean barely had a moment to realize his guts hadn’t been spilled open yet before he felt a beginning-to-be-familiar yank through space. His feet landed on carpet, and it was suddenly blissfully quiet. Dean blinked several times, his eyes struggling to adjust. When they did, his sight was filled with a crooked blue tie and the buttons of a beige coat. 

“I told you I’d take care of you, Dean.”

“Where’s Sammy?” was all Dean could ask at first, naturally, and dug into his jacket pocket for his phone. The screen lit up with the call from his brother even as he did so. With a passing glance at his angel savior, Dean answered.

“Dean! Are you okay? Where’d you go?”

“I’m fine. Cas...um, Cas touched down and grabbed me.” 

“That’s what that was,” Sam replied. “I saw a light and all of a sudden all the hounds were just gone and everything went quiet.”

“You okay?” Dean had to know.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. You’re sure you are?”

“I’m...yeah. Cas is here and we’re...yeah.”

“Well make sure you thank him for me. We would have been screwed without him I guess. I’ll, uh, I’ll grab the car and see you back at the motel when I see you?”

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good, man.” Dean hung up and pocketed his phone once more. Sam didn’t seem remotely worried now that he knew it was Castiel he was with, and why would he? The angel had come to their rescue and Dean was safer with him than probably anywhere else, whether Dean was ready to admit that or not. 

The hunter let his eyes travel to Cas’s face, finding the usual concern and attentiveness there. A ‘thank you’ seemed inadequate, and almost superfluous between them. Dean needed to step away, to sit down; the adrenaline was leaking out of his body after running from the hellhounds and he wasn’t sure he was ready for the flood of emotions that was already starting to hit him from being in close proximity to the angel. 

Cas had managed to stay away a week this time - an extremely long week in which Dean had been irritable and grouchy but too stubborn to pray and ask him to come back. His brother had even snapped at him at one point that he needed to get laid or something. Oh Sammy, if you only knew, Dean had thought, but of course he couldn’t say anything of the sort. 

So now he took a step to the side, to begin to head to the small couch in the corner of the hotel room, or he tried to. His left ankle, which he’d twisted in a gopher hole halfway across the farmer’s field, gave out on him with the lack of adrenaline to keep it working. Strong arms caught him, and Dean didn’t even try to pull out of them. 

“I’ve got you, Dean,” that wonderful voice crept into his ear, and the hunter let himself be held, let himself lean on the angel. _ His _ angel. 

Then there was a touch at his forehead, a warmth flowed through him down to his toes, and his overextended muscles breathed a sigh of relief, suddenly refreshed. His ankle felt good as new, and he was able to bear full weight on it. He still didn’t move from Cas’s embrace though. In fact, his own arms snuck underneath the trench coat to wrap around Cas’s waist, and Dean knew he was being pathetic and clingy. He just couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. It was Cas, it was all right. 

“That’s it,” Cas encouraged. “I’m here. Let yourself go. You deserve to be taken care of sometimes.” Dean shook his head at this, burrowing it into the crook of Cas’s neck, but he didn’t voice a rebuttal. He knew by now that Cas wouldn’t listen to one. 

The angel simply held him, seemingly content to stand there for the rest of the night, his large hands splayed on Dean’s back, his hard but warm body molding to the human’s. He smelled like a lightning storm in the heat of summer, and Dean found his nose chasing the scent across his throat. He was already dizzy with it, as well as with the tendril of fear that was licking at the base of his skull, promising a fire that would burn in the best of ways. 

Dean drew Cas even tighter into him, as if he couldn’t get enough, and the angel’s fingers found his hair. He knew he was not going to win this fight, all he could do was attempt for it to be somewhat on his terms this time.

So Dean dragged his already open mouth along Cas’s jaw, scratching his lips on the angel’s stubble before he found Cas’s lips, open and waiting for him. He tried to kiss the angel back as good as he was getting it, but the way the guy’s tongue plundered his mouth and stole rational thought made it difficult. So Dean just let him ravage him, understanding the implications of the surrendering as best he could. 

When Cas let his bruised lips rest, however, he didn’t begin to molest Dean again; rather, he just returned to holding the human, closer than close but as patiently as a saint. Sure, now he’d decided to be altruistic, with lava coursing through Dean’s veins and a nearly uncontrollable desire to rip the angel’s clothes off. Dean just couldn’t win. 

“I want you.” 

It came out as a whispered moan, his face pressed into the crease between the trench coat collar and Cas’s suit jacket. Dean hated how needy he sounded, and how his heart almost seemed to break as he said the words. Cas’s hands were steady on him, though, as if the angel could hold his pieces in place while Dean let himself fall apart. And maybe he could. 

Dean wasn’t even sure Castiel had heard him, but then Cas let out a soft moan that sounded like it was trying not to be a full on growl. 

“You have no idea what you do to me, Dean,” the angel’s heated lips brushed his ear on this, and the hunter had to tighten his hold even further on Cas’s ribs to contain the tremble this caused. 

“You would prefer a bed this time, correct?” Cas’s eyes were dark, his gaze heavy but attentive as Dean met it. 

“Uhh…” Dean got out, a part of his brain still in denial. But then he simply nodded. It couldn’t be said that Cas didn’t pay attention to his requests. 

The next thing he knew, Dean was being lifted in Cas’s impossibly strong arms. Almost against his will and perhaps to feel like he had some control, Dean’s legs came up to wrap around the angel’s waist as Cas turned and began walking them towards the bed. The blood that was already travelling south now rushed there with the way that he was pressed up against Cas’s groin. He was already too turned on to care how helpless this should make him feel, as long it got him closer to that cock again. 

Cas lowered himself carefully to the edge of the bed, giving Dean time to unfold his legs enough to straddle Cas’s lap. 

“Lose the damn coat, man,” Dean requested, after a long moment of taking each other in wide eyed. No way was Dean going to be the only one naked this time. With a dark look and a light smirk, Cas acquiesced, slipping both the coat and jacket off of his shoulders, entrancing Dean with how his muscles flexed underneath the white dress shirt. He bore down with his hips without another thought, grinding his erection into Cas’s almost hard enough to hurt. The groan this drew from the angel was decidedly ungodly, and Dean had to admit a certain pride in the fact that he was the one to make one of heaven’s own fall so far and so dirty. 

Sharp teeth met the muscle underneath his ear, Dean whimpered uncontrollably, and a hand found his belt buckle. He was all but manhandled onto his back while his jeans were undone and then slipped off of him, along with his underwear. Well, they were still in one piece; this was an improvement. Cas’s hands were hot as they smoothed up the outsides of his thighs and over his hips, back up to remove his shirts. Dean grabbed blindly for the angel, wanting to rip the rest of the annoying barriers of fabric off of his partner.

“Take your clothes off,” he tried, and while the intent was to make it a command to pay Cas back for the one he’d given him, it failed spectacularly and came out as a begging moan. The sly little smirk on Cas’s face that this caused, complete with one arched eyebrow, told Dean he at least knew what he’d been trying to do. 

The hunter had thought that it would be fun to help undress Cas, but now he found himself distracted into immobility by the sight of those strong, thick fingers that would hopefully soon be inside him again loosening the ever crooked tie and then undoing the buttons on his shirt one by one. As each inch of skin was revealed, Dean sunk deeper into the realization that he was no longer straight, that this angel was ruining him for anyone else, and he couldn’t bring himself to mind. 

Cas never broke eye contact while he divested himself of his clothes, and he seemed to be drinking in Dean’s silent admiration. 

“Now you finally know how I’ve wanted you since I first gripped you,” Castiel said, his gaze dancing almost affectionately over the hand print that still marked his human’s shoulder. Dean’s mind could not produce a reply, and he felt warmth spread across his exposed skin. Where was the grabbing, the growling, the taking? This slow tender shit was going to tear Dean apart. 

He stared at the now naked angel looming over him; the subtly sculpted chest, those hip bones he’d dreamed about, the dusting of dark hair leading down…and that cock, thick and heavy even though it wasn't even fully hard yet. It looked so much bigger than Dean remembered it feeling. But he shifted his hips involuntarily, trapped where they were in between Cas’s thighs, while his eyes widened and asked for things he couldn’t put words to. 

With a smile that could only be described as hungry, Cas lowered himself, slotting his body against Dean’s to find the hunter’s mouth once more. As they kissed, or more accurately, Cas devoured his lips and tongue, Dean found himself beginning to writhe, soaking in the way their skin slid together and especially how their cocks pressed and rubbed, something he never thought he’d be enjoying. 

“Kissing is quite wonderful,” Cas uttered after he’d detached and was trailing his lips down Dean’s Adam’s apple and across his collarbone. 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean panted in agreement, his stomach fluttering in anticipation of where Cas’s mouth was heading next. His stubble was currently tickling at Dean’s ribs, and Dean was torn between appreciating the moment and wanting something in between his legs again. 

That’s right, Cas could read him like a book, because now the guy was moving south and running his large hands over Dean’s thigh muscles and spreading the hunter’s legs like it was his complete right to do so. Dean’s desire spiked as he surrendered further, unable to take his eyes off of the way that Cas’s stare was absolutely fixated on his hole. His concentration was a little scary, if truth be told, but the desire in those endless blues somehow transformed the vulnerable moment into one of the most erotic things Dean had ever been a party to. 

Goddamn why was this taking so long to get a part of Cas inside of him this time? It was like the angel was content to just worship him, which was nice and flattering and all, if completely disconcerting, but Dean was horny in a way he’d never been before. He began to palm his own dick, needing contact  _ somewhere. _ This finally seemed to spur Cas forward. 

“Mine,” came the possessive growl, making Dean’s throat go dry. This was more like it. Seeming to catch himself, he then asked, “May I touch it?” but it wasn’t a true question. His tone was too flat and sure and his hand was already wrapping around Dean’s erection before the hunter could nod his consent. 

The touch did bring back the wave of memory from almost two weeks ago, the shame and confusion Dean had been wracked with the first time this hand had taken hold of him here. But this faded a bit with the way Cas was stroking him now, so slowly and focused, and nothing short of reverent.

“Your penis is as gorgeous as the rest of you,” the angel said, his tone full of sincere appreciation. Dean flushed again at this, unsure if it was from the weirdness of the compliment or because it was actually kind of a turn on. His dick seemed to answer for him, precome rising out of his slit and leaking over the swollen tip. 

“Would you like to climax like this?” Cas asked, experimenting with his now-slick thumb rubbing small soft circles on the underside of the head and part of Dean wanted to nod. Yes, coming would be good, coming is always good, the angel’s careful hand would look so dirty and perfect coated in his seed. 

But there was another part of Dean that was still hungry, wanting, in a way that he wasn’t sure he was ready to say out loud. So he just shook his head and whined out Cas’s name, trusting him to know what he needed like he’d said he did. 

Cas halted his jerking and leaned down to tenderly kiss Dean’s shoulder as he moved lower to cup his human’s taut ball sack in his palm, massaging just slightly and about sending Dean through the roof. He then slid his hand over to a hip bone, his touch balancing perfectly between soothing and arousing. Dean’s body didn’t know how to process this contrast. 

“You would like me to open you up again?” Cas said in his duskiest tone of voice yet, and Dean’s heart downright quivered. He started to nod, but he knew he needed to find his words, somehow, someway. 

“Yes,” he made his tongue and jaw form. He hadn’t taught the guy to ask so that he could say no, after all, and his legs began to spread shamelessly. His chest, neck, and face were all furiously warm with a deep blush. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to want this, but he’d always been a hedon for what felt good, and damn if he wasn’t just chasing what had felt absolutely mind blowing before.

Dean watched Cas dig the small bottle of lube out of the pocket of the discarded trench coat and he had to wonder how long an angel of the Lord had been carrying around lube, waiting to use it on the human he wasn’t able to resist. 

Then his lips were suddenly being devoured yet again, his mouth worshipped, and a silly, happy warmth curled up in his chest. It was clear that Cas truly wanted to make him happy, to take care of him, to make him feel good. Dean wasn’t sure he could get used to that, or even acknowledge it outside of having an angel’s tongue down his throat or his finger breaching his hole. He whimpered into the kiss as he felt that now-welcome slide into his body, slow and sensuous and promising. Cas drew back, removing his wonderful lips. 

“I told you that you liked it,” he whispered roughly, and Dean was dimly aware he should be pissed at the too-confident presumption. But he was too busy being hit by a fresh wave of desire at the declaration. And the way that Cas’s finger was starting to move deep inside him, like he was idly stirring a drink, may have had something to do with Dean’s distraction.

Barely knowing what he was doing, Dean reached for the angel’s wrist in between his legs with half a thought to hold it there so he could fuck himself on the digit better, but then he paused, not wanting to interrupt the current sensations. So he brushed his own fingers against the skin of Cas’s arm and up to his shoulder. Huh, he didn’t know angels could get goosebumps. 

“More, please,” Dean got out, though what he really wanted to say was, “Just fuck me into the mattress already.” He was really turning into quite the needy mess. As Cas fulfilled his request and eased the second finger in, Dean thought about just what kind of a wonderful, slick mess Cas was actively turning that part of him into. That part that he’d never known could feel so much or so good, and the flare of shame still rolled through his belly at the knowledge. 

But it was only Cas that knew this about him, and Cas would take care of him. It was as if Dean’s newfound desires were a blanket of secrets they could wrap themselves in and hide from the world underneath. Dean could open his soul here completely, lay his body at this angel’s feet and let himself get lost in the pleasure. 

It was a new and heady experience to let go of this much control but as Cas continued to use two fingers to slowly, lovingly make Dean feel good, the hunter finished surrendering to the angel with Castiel’s whispers against his skin. Dean was pretty sure they were Enochian words because they had a hypnotic quality, or maybe that was just the sensation of Cas’s lips grazing along his nerve endings.

It didn’t hurt at all this time when Castiel began sliding inside of him, and Dean decided he liked this position a lot. Because Cas could fix him in that devoted, all consuming stare of his as he held himself over Dean and filled him up, slow slick inch by slow slick inch. 

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah,” Dean murmured, lost in the feel-good. Once Cas was all the way inside, he leaned down again and thoroughly kissed the human before he started a sinuous thrusting. 

“You are my everything,” Cas declared staunchly as his cock massaged Dean from the inside out and made stars flash behind Dean’s eyelids. This could go on all night as far as Dean was concerned: he was stuffed full again, as close to melding with Cas as he could get. 

And while it was making his hard cock bounce lightly against his abs, leaving a trail of precome, and nothing had ever sexually felt like this, it was the intimacy of the moment that had Dean breathless and clutching for Cas. He’d never been this close with another person before, and he knew he didn’t want to be ever again.

Then Cas leaned back, angled his hips just so, and Dean’s world exploded. He knew Cas’s hand was back around his cock and he was aware that he himself was making some sort of keening sound but the rest was all just a brick wall of pleasure. He came endlessly, his release flowing through him like a benediction. 

When he was able to open his eyes and blink at the angel above him, it was to find a sexy as fuck pleased grin on Cas’s face and Dean had gotten his wish after all: along with his own belly, Cas’s hand was coated in his white sticky seed where it still gently held his softening cock. Dean smiled back, light headed and lust drunk. 

“Can I ejaculate inside of you again?” Cas asked, voice wrecked but somehow still smooth. So they might have to work on his wording of certain things, but then again maybe not because Dean smiled even wider as his heart gave a weird little twist. 

“Yeah, Cas, fucking do it,” Dean begged, and tried to brace himself for the pummeling. But Cas must have been much closer than he’d let on, since it only took a few more slow thrusts before Dean felt the angel’s dick begin to pulse and throb and spill into him, warm and wet and so wonderfully filthy. 

Cas came without a sound this time, eyes screwed tightly shut and mouth hanging open in a silent scream, just riding his climax. Dean watched him, greedily taking every drop he could give, and falling deeper and deeper. 

After a few precious moments of time being frozen in such a way, Cas began to pull back but Dean’s arms reflexively tightened around him to hold him in place. 

“No, c’mere,” Dean may have uttered as he drew the angel closer and pulled him down on top of him. He hated that any shifting would result in Cas slipping out and he had to try to hold onto this feeling as long as he could. Cas was sweaty and sticky and too warm, and Dean was too, and the weight of him felt incredible. 

“This is a post mating ritual you enjoy?” Cas checked. Mating; Dean rolled his eyes with what little strength he had left. Still, there was something about the guy’s vocabulary that was just right. 

“No,” Dean answered, keeping a firm arm around Cas so his point would not be mistaken before he could make it. 

“Not usually. But I think I enjoy it with you.” Gag him with a spoon for the sap he was being. Or maybe gag him with something else, Dean thought wryly, beginning to wonder if he’d want to do that. If he’d do that if Cas told him to get on his knees and wrap his lips around it. It only gave him a small flutter of unease that he was pretty sure he’d say yes as he imagined the scenario. 

“I enjoy this too,” Cas’s voice broke into his thoughts, tone going from content to teasing with the next words. “Whatever sexual fantasies you are thinking of, I promise we can do them.” 

“Stop reading my mind!” Dean replied out of habit before the impact of the promise sunk in. He smoothed a hand over Cas’s shoulder blade, not sure in the tangle of limbs where he ended and the angel began. 

“I’m not,” Cas said. “You forget how well I can read you without having to enter your mind. You and I have a -”

“I know, a profound bond,” Dean interrupted. 

“I was going to say a love hitherto unknown to two different such beings, but yes, that works too.” This was said with the tenderest of strokes down his back and Dean couldn’t help but try to snuggle in even closer, his mind turning in circles. Love. What did a hardened hunter know of love? What the hell did a righteous angel know of love? 

“Yeah. Yeah I guess so,” Dean found himself saying anyway, and just held on tighter. 


End file.
